


what goes up (ghost around)

by cyclothimic



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclothimic/pseuds/cyclothimic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You broke my heart and I still love you. I know deep down what a jackass you are and I still love you! You brought a laptop riddled with bullets into my office and you ruined my entire life. You made me incapable of loving someone else."</p>
            </blockquote>





	what goes up (ghost around)

_My haunted lungs_

_Ghost in the sheets_

_I know if I'm haunting you_

_You must be haunting me_

_-Haunted, Beyoncé_

* * *

As wise a man as John Diggle was, he may have been wrong this time. Or maybe, he wasn't wrong. He was just too late when he offered Oliver his piece of advice. Or maybe,  _maybe_ , Oliver shouldn't even need advice from someone else to wake him up from his self-drowning.

One way or another, Diggle gave him an advice Oliver sorely needed and didn't need at the same time. He followed Diggle's advice. Or he tried to. Because when he wanted to do exactly what Diggle told him to do, he saw something that shattered his heart into pieces. Honestly, he never actually thought it was possible for him to feel such excruciating pain after what he went through on that island.

So he left. Because he was a coward. Because he made a promise not to kill. Because he wanted her to be happy. Because he  _loved_ her.

Diggle didn't ask him what was wrong with him when they went to his place for dinner and Oliver was grateful for that. He ate. He told Lyla that the meal was delicious (he could barely taste anything but bitter). And then he went to bring Roy home. He went back to the foundry and he took his shirt off and he worked out.

He destroyed two dummies. He pummeled five sandbags. He went on the salmon ladder for one hour. He couldn't feel the soreness in his muscles. He couldn't feel his ligaments and tendons screaming for respite. All he could feel were the invisible fingers wrapping around his heart so tight. All he could see was the sight of her lips – those sweet, innocent lips – pressed against another man's.

He wanted to insist that it should have been his that her lips should be pressed against. Yet, he knew he had no right. He knew it was all on him.

He lost his chance. He wasn't going to let her lose hers. If Ray Palmer could make her happy, he wouldn't interfere even though the urge to strangle the man who stole his company – stole his  _girl_  – was beyond strong right now. He wasn't going to interfere.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up to Felicity's heels clicking on the floor of the foundry. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't see him right now. When she bought him the bed, she made sure to have it placed somewhere obscure, so he would at least have his privacy.

He closed his eyes and the image of her kissing Ray Palmer came back. And the ache returned. He took a few calming breaths. And then he slowly crawled out of bed and pulled on a Henley.

He emerged from his makeshift bedroom to see her watering the plant with a vague smile on her face. He leaned against one of the shelves storing medical equipment and watched her. She didn't notice his presence.

"Morning," he finally greeted, his voice still slightly hoarse from sleep.

She jumped. Her hand was on her chest as she stared at him slack jawed. "I thought we agreed on no more sneaking up on people."

He forced a tight smile. "Don't you have work today?" he asked.

She blinked. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks. No doubt she was thinking about last night, when she was kissing Ray Palmer. Oliver elected to ignore it. "Ray gave me the day off," she muttered. She swallowed. "I actually just came to water the fern and then I'm gonna go to pick up some groceries. And then maybe I'll go home and watch Avengers or something. Or, I don't know, maybe I'll just wander around the city and see what's going on lately because, you know, I've been spending my daytime at QC, I mean, Palmer Technology. Actually, are you angry that he rebranded your company? I mean, not that you won't because that was  _your_ company after all. I just wonder –"

"Felicity," he cut her off. This time, a genuine smile was on his face. No matter how heartbroken he was, her rambling could never fail to bring a smile to him. She shut up. "Don't worry about it," he reassured her softly.

She blinked. And then she nodded. She smiled gingerly at him. They stood at their places, not moving one inch to be closer or farther away from each other. Oliver couldn't help but chuckled humorlessly at the situation.

So close yet so far apart, figuratively and literally.

"What's so funny?" she asked, a wary smile on her face.

He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. "Nothing," he murmured. "Nothing." It sounded as if he was reassuring himself. "Anyway, thank you for coming here last night. I know you…were at dinner with Palmer last night."

If she noticed his hesitation and the slight change of inflection in his voice, she didn't show any sign of it. She just shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay." She shouldered her purse and smacked her lips. "Well, I'm off. I'll be back tonight. See you later."

And he watched her go up the stairs, disappearing from his sight.

Literally and figuratively.

* * *

Felicity was slowly, gradually, detaching herself from Team Arrow – he picked that up from her because she'd been saying it so many times for the last two years – and Oliver and Diggle and basically everything that was related to him.

She no longer spent extra time at the foundry. She no longer went to lunch with them at Big Belly Burger. She no longer texted him or Diggle funny cat videos or memes. She no longer stayed to heal his wounds.

Oliver did not blame her. He hurt her. She decided she had had enough. She made the choice to move on. He was letting her.

But he missed her. God, he missed her so much. He missed touching her. He missed doing something as simple as putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He missed her rambles. He missed her smiles that were so fucking bright it lighted up his entire soul. He missed everything about her.

And because he missed her and he was angry at himself for being a jealous son of a bitch who could take no action for himself, he snapped at her when she failed once. It was  _once_. And he snapped at her undeservingly.

"If you had done it right, Laurel wouldn't be injured right now!"

He could see her visibly tense. Then she slowly rose from her seat. "If you had  _waited_ , I wouldn't have failed!" she argued. "And I'm sorry that Laurel's injured but you should have  _listened_  before you decided to go off when I wasn't even done!"

"Well, you should have been better," he growled.

She scoffed. "I gave it my all, Oliver," she stressed.

"No!" he shouted. She jumped. He felt Diggle laying a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off violently. "No, you didn't give it your all, Felicity! You haven't been giving it your all since you went to that  _work dinner_ with Ray Palmer. You've been distracted ever since you first  _kissed_  Ray Palmer."

She looked appalled at his words. "That has  _nothing_ to do with this!"

"I know you're not my EA anymore. I know you're starting to have a life of your own outside. But need I remind you that you have a job here too!" he roared.

Felicity was quiet for a minute or two. Then she clenched her jaw. She took slow steps towards him until they were feet to feet. He towered over her but it felt like she was the one towering over him when she looked at him with that look in her eyes. There was liquid at the brims of her eyes.

"Oliver," she started in a whisper, "I have been doing my job  _spectacularly_ for the last two years. And I have been doing it  _spectacularly_  even thought I went to the work dinner with Ray, despite what you think." She closed her eyes and inhaled harshly through her nose. "You, right now, this you, are jealous. You saw me kiss him and you got jealous. But let me tell you something, Oliver, you have  _no_  right to be jealous.  _None_."

She was right. Deep down, he knew she was right.

"Yes, I have been…detaching myself from you, from John, from Roy, from everything related to  _you_ ," she gritted. Tears were beginning to flow from her eyes, one drop by one drop. "You wanna know why?" Her voice was thick and filled with emotion. "Because  _you_  made a  _choice_. For us. You didn't consult me. You didn't even let me have a say.  _You_  made it. And I'm just doing right by  _your choice._ "

"Felicity," he breathed, the anger had dissipated, quickly replaced by disappointment. Disappointment in himself.

"No!" she snapped. "You don't get to talk anymore. I talk, you listen." She took another deep breath and closed her eyes to brace herself. "For two years, Oliver, I have been right here by your side, being your freaking IT girl and your freaking Executive Assistant. For two years, I have been on the receiving end of sneers and lecherous looks because they thought I slept my way to the top and you know what, I endured it. For two years, I watched you go from one woman to another and I  _did not_  say a word. For two years, I committed multiple federal offenses and risked my goddamn life to help you.  _For two years_ , Oliver, I have been sitting in  _that_ chair,  _loving_ you and  _giving up my goddamn life_ for you!" Her voice grew louder and thicker with each syllable. "I was accepting the fact that I would  _never_  be able to be with your significant other. And then you went and asked me out on a friggin' date and you gave me  _hope_. You gave me the one thing that I've been yearning for for two years and then you snatch it away like a fucking toy in a hospital hallway!"

And then she shoved him. She shoved him in the chest so hard that he staggered backwards. She moved towards him and shoved him again. Her body was shaking, tears were flowing out and she was breathing so hard he could literally hear it. He allowed her to shove him again and again and again, each time with a grunt. He didn't stop her. Hearing her say all those words had driven him numb with a numbing pain.

"I tried to go out on dates with Ray and I tried to get myself to  _like_  him but I couldn't because for some godforsaken reason, I still  _love_ you. You broke my heart and I still  _love_ you. I know deep down what a jackass you are and I  _still_ love you! You brought a laptop riddled with bullets into my office and you  _ruined_  my entire life. You made me incapable of loving someone else. You made me into the kind of woman who cry in her room and eat pints of mint chocolate because a jackass stole her heart and didn't even bother giving it back!" she wailed.

He caught her hands when she wanted to shove him again. Their faces were only inches apart. He could feel her seething breaths against his skin, scorching his skin. "Felicity," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She pursed her lips, jaws clenched. She glared up at him for two seconds and then she pulled her hands from his grip. She took slow steps backwards, shaking her head. She waved her hands around and she shook her head and she kept crying.

"I'm done," she then said. "This, all these," she gestured around the room and shook her head again, "it's too much. I tried but it's too much. I'm done with this. I'm not doing this anymore." She exhaled with a gutted groan and turned back around to grab her things hastily.

And then, without even a glance back, she walked away. She walked out of his life.

* * *

At exactly twenty-three minutes past two in the morning, he got a call from Quentin Lance.

Felicity was in the surgery room undergoing emergency operations. Someone broke into her house and she saw it and she got stabbed in the stomach multiple times.

Oliver barged into the emergency wing with Diggle at his heels. His face was a representation of panic and remorse and fear. He was dressed in sweatpants and a thin shirt over his body. The cold was biting into his skin, as if mocking him.

Quentin Lance was seated at the bench. When he saw Oliver, he stood up, a grim look on his face. He shook his head when they were within speaking distance. Oliver narrowed his eyes. Lance put a hand on Oliver's shoulder and shook his head again. Oliver saw his reddened eyes for the first time.

"No," Oliver grunted.

"I'm sorry."

Lance brought him to the morgue. The  _morgue._ The sign was glaring at him in green light above the door. He stood before the double plain white doors. His throat dried and his mouth was opened. His mind was blank. He didn't even see his own hand trembling when he pushed the door open slowly.

She was on the metal table, white sheet covering her. Her eyes and her lips were closed. Her industrial piercing was gone. Her skin was paler than usual. Her hair was combed neatly. She looked so serene…and lifeless.

He pushed himself to the table and knelt on his knees. He searched for her hand and gripped it tightly. He stared at her for god-only-knows-how-long.

"Wake up," he sibilated. He waited for another minute. "Wake up," he whispered more firmly and thickly. His face was screwed up together as he tried to rein in the tears. "Wake up," he growled again. His shoulders shook but the tears were still reigned in. "Felicity," he choked, "wake up."

She gave him no response. Though in his mind, he could hear a cacophony of her voice, berating him and teasing him and praising him and reassuring him.

"Felicity," he spoke again, his voice so distorted with agony. "Felicity, I'm sorry," he groaned. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please wake up. Please. Please. Please."

He kept begging and he kept apologizing and he started crying silently and he wouldn't stop begging. He was so desperate. Because Felicity Smoak was the light in his dark, dark world. Felicity Smoak was his heart and his soul. Felicity Smoak was the love of his life. Without Felicity Smoak, he would desolate and empty.

" _I love you_ ," he cried, his voice a roar and a cry. " _Felicity!_ "

He began shaking the table, as if shaking the table to jolt her awake and things would be okay again. But she didn't wake up. She just lied on the table, shaking with it. He shook it harder, yelling for her to wake up. He was lost in his own desperation for her to just open her eyes and breathe again.

And then someone grabbed him – probably Diggle – by his arms and pulled him back. He surged forward but Diggle pulled him back again. Then Diggle wrapped his arms around Oliver's torso and brought him to his knees. Oliver was wailing and begging and struggling to be beside Felicity again.

" _I'm sorry._ "

It echoed into the night, filled with the anguish and sorrow of a man who had his chance and lost it and would forever be plunged into a barren well of torment.


End file.
